


Experiment On Me

by inber



Series: Inber's Geralt x Jaskier x Reader Fanfiction [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Begging, Bondage, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Cock Rings, Come Shot, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Gags, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Name-Calling, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Rough Sex, Switching, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inber/pseuds/inber
Summary: Can you control two lustful men and maintain authority? You certainly attempt to do so. Is there a leash in the world that will restrain a Witcher, though? PWP One-Shot.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Series: Inber's Geralt x Jaskier x Reader Fanfiction [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698223
Comments: 8
Kudos: 129





	Experiment On Me

Geralt’s amber gaze was dark, the vertical slit of his inhuman pupils dissolving into his fierce irises, and it was locked securely upon your own. You were sat opposite him in an overstuffed velveteen chair, reclining like a graceful goddess overseeing a gathering of worship with flickering fascination. You're dressed in absolutely nothing but a deep emerald robe of silk, cinched loosely at the squeeze of your waist.

Across from you, Geralt was balls-deep within Jaskier, who was seated in his lap, sweating and panting, legs spread in a wanton sprawl. He’s leaning against the Witcher’s chest, unable to do anything but whimper, considering the pair of panties you’d stuffed into his mouth. Geralt was fucking him slowly, _agonisingly_ slowly, using the strength of his arms to lift the deliciously tormented bard when Jaskier’s legs fail him.

Tonight, you are in charge.

It was a concept that Jaskier had readily accepted, and Geralt had challenged with a simple look. You didn’t need to have a lengthy conversation; once he’d rolled the possibilities over in his mind, you saw the vivid trust there, the knowledge that you all shared a dynamic of debauchery that was, at its core, loving and safe. Limits had been established long ago. Words and signals had been drilled into your minds. So often you’d been the willing and adoring subject of their desires, serving with enthusiasm and delighting in the way they pulled you apart with such mastery, as though you were a simple seamstress’ pet project.

And now you held the threads. Now, _you_ tugged.

Jaskier’s eyes rolled back as Geralt thrust back into him, the thick, blunt head of his cock massaging the deepest secret spot within his body, forcing his own length to throb thickly. He made a low, strangled sound and flinched, running his hands sharply down his own thighs. You saw the red lines where his fingernails had scratched. So far, he’d been allowed to endure this without restraint – but if you had to, you’d employ the use of rope on either of them.

“You look so fucking gorgeous, Jask’.” You praised, and his bleary blue eyes fluttered open to focus upon you. With a predator’s purpose, you spread your legs, hooking them over the arms of the chair, exposing your bare, slick cunt. Both men made a noise; Jaskier moaned through the fabric, and Geralt snarled, drawing in a deep breath through his nose. You saw his powerful thighs flex and knew he was overstimulated, torn between demanding you do more than just watch, and obeying your orders. Smirking, you ran your fingers down your slit, gathering your wetness, sighing as you rubbed lazy circles around your clit. “Continue, Geralt.”

His next few thrusts were quicker, more direct, and you tutted. “Ah, ah. I said _slow_ , did I not? Look at poor Jaskier. You’re gonna make him come all over himself.”

Jaskier was sobbing through the material in his mouth; your words made his cock bob, desperate for a brush of friction. You saw his hand move towards the reddened length and you drew your legs closed, standing, the thunder of your disapproval rattling at the back of your throat. “ _No._ ” You commanded, and he froze up, wide-eyed. With a hiss of breath from between your clenched teeth, you gestured at Geralt. “Stop.”

He did as he was bid, his features blazing with lust and savage control; you knew he was more of a wildcard, far more likely to act on instinct than Jaskier. Crossing the room, you picked up a few items from the nightstand.

“If you can’t follow simple instructions,” You purred, “Then you get punished. It’s not _difficult_ , Jaskier. I thought you to be such a good, smart boy.” As you yanked his arms roughly, up behind Geralt’s shoulders, he knitted his eyebrows together and begged you with his gaze. He was talking – of course he was – but the silk fabric in his mouth swallowed the words. Expertly you bound his wrists to the top of the chair Geralt was sat upon, one at a time, checking the knots. Nearby you had a dagger for quick release if necessary. “No pain?” You checked, sweetly, needing your toy intact. He shook his head. “Good.”

Then you knelt before them, and again they made a sound that bled together like watercolour paint; they were used to the action meaning something good, something that lead to your practiced mouth upon them. And honestly, you couldn’t resist; you stuck the tip of your tongue out and stole a drip of Jaskier’s drooling precome, making the bard flex bodily. The way Geralt groaned made you aware of just how tight he was coiling. You grinned.

“We’ve barely started, my darling pets.” You informed, as you secured a leather strip tightly around the base of Jasier’s cock, and then the top of his sac – even drawn-up to his body as it was. You were careful, knowing exactly how much pressure would amplify pleasure and delay orgasm. “There. That should stop you embarrassing yourself.” Fluidly, you stood. “At least I would hope so.”

Again he blurted words into the makeshift gag, and you sighed, withdrawing it from his mouth. “Yes?”

“I don’t know h-how much more... Gods, _fuck,_ I don’t... I feel—I can’t hold it. _Please._ ” He begged in a babble, and you enjoyed his pleas so much that you dropped the panties to the ground. You kissed him, your eyes upon Geralt’s as you did; you saw the jealousy there, the twitch of his upper lip. Jaskier’s mouth was trembling and he was greedy, all tongue and teeth; you pulled away.

“You’re our good, strong boy, aren’t you pet?” You asked of him, stroking his jaw.

He nodded frantically, sniffling. “Yes. Y-yes.”

“And you know your words and your gestures.”

“Yes— _oh!_ ” He groaned as Geralt shifted slightly, grinding into him. “Fuck, yes.”

“Then you’ll behave and _endure._ ” You told him, loftily; you paused to stroke some of Geralt’s long loose hair away from his leonine features. “Continue.”

On your way back to the chair, you shed the gown, leaving your body starkly nude, your skin glowing in the firelight. You heard Geralt’s teeth snap together.

“And what of me?” He rasped, the grit of his voice a panther’s jungle stalk, “What would you have me do?”

“Oh, you can come in him whenever you please, darling.” You chirped, draping yourself back onto the chair to watch. “Fuck him like you _mean it._ ”

The leave snapped a thread of the Witcher’s resolve, and his hands gripped Jaskier’s hips tightly. Every exhale was a snarl as he adopted a frantic rhythm, bouncing the bard in his lap. Now that he was ungagged, Jaskier howled and thrashed and wept his pleasure, straining against the bonds, his cock pulsing in its bondage. “Fuck!” He was screaming, “Oh, _fuck!_ _Please!_ ”

“Please _what,_ pet?” You asked innocently, as if you had no idea; you were watching them, thrilled at the display, rubbing your clit with two soaking fingers. Geralt’s breath began to hitch.

“ _Please let me come!_ ” Jaskier burst out, his head rolling back to hit Geralt’s massive shoulder with a thud. His lower back arched as the Witcher rutted slickly into him, well-oiled, his powerful hips a piston.

“You look like such a whore.” You taunted, your eyes on Geralt, although your words were directed at Jaskier. Something about your tone clearly hit a nerve, though, because the Witcher huffed out a low moan of ecstasy, holding Jaskier as close as he possibly could as his cock flexed and spilled within the other man, the warmth of his come a flood that only further served to heighten the bard’s response. You saw him shudder, and growled. “Don’t you fucking _dare._ ”

Somehow, he fought the urge back, and you knew Geralt was reaping the tight benefits. His face was a picture of bliss as he panted, eyes scrunched shut in concentration, riding out his orgasm until he was utterly spent. Then he sat back in the chair, Jaskier still squirming in his lap, and relaxed. Even under your control his posture was princely, and you had to admire it – and the tableaux they presented for you. Geralt’s thick seed dripped from their join; Jaskier was flushed and sweating and mewling, his trembling cock adding to the pool on the ground with spiderweb strands of precome every time he pulsed.

“Geralt, love,” You ordered, “Release Jaskier’s hands.”

“Oh thank you, oh _Gods,_ than—”

“If you so much as lay _one finger_ on yourself, pet, you won’t come tonight. At all.” Your threat was severe, and the bard swallowed dryly, nodding once. Geralt easily tugged the knots free. Jaskier – perhaps trying to score points – didn’t even move his arms. You grinned like a huntsman’s trap, all glinting teeth.

“Crawl to me, pet. I want your talented mouth upon me.” Fingers curled in a coax, as you shifted forward on your seat, spreading your legs wider in invitation.

Both men groaned as Jaskier uncoupled from Geralt, falling forward to his hands and knees anyway; he shuffled forward to you, as you watched the Witcher wipe himself clean with a damp cloth. He was still hard, you noted. Good.

Kneeling before you, hands carefully on his thighs, Jaskier asked permission with his beautiful lapus lazuli eyes, and you graced him with a smile, before inclining your head. Carefully, he licked a stripe from your hole all the way to the engorged button of your clit, and you sighed in encouragement. Both men were experts at eating you out, but in different ways; Geralt liked to feast upon you like a starving man, making you thrash and squeal and squirt against his face. Jaskier was more careful, building you up into a frenzy and making you tumble into a trembling bliss that only ended when he stopped it. You were blessed with choice.

Today he was less exploratory; he drove his tongue into your cunt, curling it, coaxing the wetness jealously from you. His nose rubbed into the nerves of your clit, a pressure stimulation, and you couldn’t help but buck against his face, whimpering, enjoying this newly exposed side of him. His lips captured your clit as he suckled hard, and you bit out a curse, your legs thrashing. “ _Fuck,_ you’re so good on your knees, pet.” You moaned, and he stiffened.

“Fuck,” He chanted, “Fuck, I— _I can’t,_ I’m _s-sor—_ ” He didn’t even get to finish his apology; his tethered cock throbbed against his body, pulled tight to his abdomen, and his come streamed from the angry tip in copious ribbons, streaking up the length of his chest and clinging to the hair, dripping down to pool in his lap. Through his orgasm, he tried his best to service you, although his sobbing and mewling vibrated your folds. The sight was so erotic – him, mind-fucked beyond all control, only needing the taste of your cunt to come as Geralt watched from across the room hawkishly. He’d disobeyed, but you were far too turned on to care.

“Yes,” You growled, watching, “Come _all over_ yourself like the fucking bitch—oh, _fuck!_ ” His teeth grazed the hood of your clit and you were gone, gripping the back of his head and riding his face as you came. Your cunt trembled, a wash of your juices dressing his mouth and chin; your head lolled back as your lips parted obscenely, your cries mingling with the bard’s muffled voice as you were snatched up and pulled into a realm of unexpected bliss.

Geralt couldn’t play at pet anymore.

He crossed the room and stood over you from behind, capturing your open lips in a filthy kiss; you moaned into his mouth, returning the embrace as both you and Jaskier began to recover, your legs shaking, Jaskier slumping back on the floor, panting and dazed. When you parted from Geralt to breathe, you saw the animal in his eyes. “Fuck me.” You attempted to command, trying to maintain control; your voice wavered.

Geralt kicked the legs of the chair, making it spin to face him. The whirl made you giddy, but not nearly as much as when he pulled you from your seat, spun you, and forced you to bend over the furniture. Deliriously you laughed, knowing you’d teased him into this mindlessly feral state, but your glee tumbled into a sharp cry as he thrust deeply into your still-quivering cunt in a single savage stroke.

He knotted your hair in his fist, demanded the arch of your back, and all you could do was hold on to the back of the chair as he power-fucked you, viciously rumbling the entire time. His balls smacked wetly against your sensitive clit over and over as he bottomed out, and you felt a line of spittle drip from the corner of your mouth. You might have been screaming; all you knew was that every synapse in your body was responsive to him, taut and sizzling, awaiting his command.

“Who’s the fucking slut _now,_ hmm?” He thundered, and you mewled, your fingers digging into the velvet material as though it might help you endure the pleasure that flirted with pain, bolting urgently through your body, boiling your blood. You could only answer him with a wail, as you felt Jaskier’s hands on your bouncing tits.

“It’ll _always_ be you.” The bard’s voice was a low husk, as he pinched your puffy nipples. The sensation jolted straight to your cunt as Geralt claimed you. “You can tie us up and call us names, and baby girl, we’ll do whatever the fuck you _want,_ ” He caught your chin and forced you to look at him. Your eyes were wet. “But at the end of it, you’re still our little whore.”

“Yes!” You agreed, lost, undone; whatever control you’d once grasped had slipped between your fingers like silk-sand, and you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. “ _Fuck, yes!_ ”

The clench of your cunt was obscene, a vice that actually slowed Geralt's stroke, a frantic flutter of your walls as you climaxed so viciously that you lost strength in your legs, relying on the Witcher to hold you in place. And he did, unable to resist the milk of your sweet pussy; he cursed and hissed hard breath through teeth as he came for the second time that evening, just as ferociously, the spill of his seed frantic and messy within you as it splashed, resisting the pressure of his dick plugging you, drooling down your slit and thighs. For a long minute he held you there as the aftershocks fucked with both of you, Jaskier smirking at your expression, and then he gently began to relax, releasing the bruise-grip on your hips.

Immediately you began to slump to the floor, and Geralt was quick to scoop you up instead, low laughter on his breath. You could feel him carrying you to the bed, feel the covers beneath your sweaty skin as he placed you atop them, but you were so strung-out that it was a miracle you were able to maintain consciousness. The bed dipped with weight as you felt them join you; tenderly, Jaskier was cleaning your folds with a warm cloth, and you felt Geralt's lips pressing kisses against your brow, following the arch of your eyebrows.

“Guess I'm... not the best domina.” You admitted, marvelling at how intoxicated you sounded.

“You did beautifully, sweetheart.” Geralt told you, and you stretched languidly between them, thrilling in the praise. “I'll never forget how absolutely fucked-up Jaskier looked when he came.”

The bard made a noise. “ _I'll_ never forget how _good_ it felt when I came.”

“Mmmh.” You nuzzled Jaskier's shoulder, desiring the fluff of the bard's chest-hair against your breast; he understood your request without need for words, and pulled you close. Behind you, Geralt tucked in protectively.

Would that you had something clever to quip; alas, you were lost in a blissful sleep in mere moments. The two men traded a smirk over your snoozing form.

“We're so doing this again.” Jaskier whispered.

“Of _course_ we are.” Geralt replied.

Between them, you were warmly content, and sweetly safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I can also be found on tumblr: @inber


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